Cages
by M.E. Magnificent Entity
Summary: October 31, 1981 leaves behind a boy and two broken men. One must grow up, one must move on, the third is forgotten. AU, slash SBRL, WIP
1. 0:

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world both belong to J.K. Rowling, several publishing companies (Bloomsbury Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic Books), and Warner Brothers, Inc. As I'm not any of them, I own none of this except the story itself, off of which I'm making absolutely no money, so please, don't sue me. 

Really, the opening line hit me and just wouldn't go away. Forty-three pages later...  
Many thanks to Moony's Girl and Rapunzel for the betas. Hugs for you both! . 

**Cages**

0: 

He spends the first full after James and Lily die at Hogwarts wandering the Forbidden Forest. There he howls at the moon until it disappears below the horizon, replaced by the haze of early dawn. 

That morning Professor McGonagall's tracking charm finds him curled up in a clearing, human once more. She smoothes his hair, making soft shushing noises as he sobs uncontrollably beside her, crying tears that he thought had already been spent. Eventually he allows her to wrap him in the blanket she's brought with her and lead him back up the hill to the castle. Inside once more, he collapses in one of the many beds of the hospital wing. Lying there, he stares at the wall, not seeing the people that move about him, not hearing the hushed voices of the students as they peek through the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the strange young man that Professor McGonagall has brought in. 

After classes have ended for the day, it is again Professor McGonagall who comes to see him in the hospital wing. Looming over the broken man in the bed, she is not kind and consoling this time. Instead, she gently but firmly grabs his arm and pulls him until he is sitting upright. He sways for a moment, but she quickly steadies him. Then she places in his lap the squirming young child that has followed her around all day, clinging to the bottom of her robes, and folds the man's arms around the boy. 

For a moment, he does not see the child in his lap. As the boy wiggles around to face him, staring up with wide green eyes, he gasps and clutches the small body to his chest, barely noticing as Professor McGonagall sinks down onto the bed next to him, putting an arm around the two of them. 

"You have to live," she says, her own voice thick with the tears she will not allow herself to shed. "You have to live and be strong. For Harry, if no one else." 

Clasping the boy to his chest even more tightly, the man nods, his eyes clenched shut against a rising tide of tears. He is too young for this, too young to take on the responsibilities of a father. James and Lily and Peter are much too young as well, too young to be dead, leaving him alone with Harry. 

He tries not to think of the man that he mourns for the most, the one whose soul he howled for in anguish the previous night. He tries not to think of Remus Lupin, rotting away in Azkaban after having betrayed them all. 

Mostly, Sirius tries not to think. 


	2. 1:

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world both belong to J.K. Rowling, several publishing companies (Bloomsbury Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic Books), and Warner Brothers, Inc. As I'm not any of them, I own none of this except the story itself, off of which I'm making absolutely no money, so please, don't sue me. 

Really, the opening line hit me and just wouldn't go away. Forty-three pages later...  
Many thanks to Moony's Girl and Rapunzel for the beta jobs. Hugs for you both! 



**Cages**

1: 

There is no time in Azkaban. Separated from the rest of the world as it is, the wizarding prison is almost removed from the stream of time. Change occurs only when a new convict is brought in or an old convict dies and is taken out. Prisoners have no way of telling one day from the next. They know that days still occur, as sunlight occasionally falls through the windows set high in the fortress walls. Without that light, they would not even know of the passing of days, and the dementors, being blind, do not even have this much. Most of the prisoners, being either entirely mad or mostly-dead, can't bring themselves to care about the days. 

A number of new prisoners arrive upon the tide. One of them is different from the rest, the first non-human in living memory to be interred in Azkaban. Where the others quickly fall into a timeless existence, he finds this to be impossible. Since he was quite small, the life of Remus Lupin has revolved around time. Now that he is in Azkaban, the one place in the world where time doesn't matter, Remus finds that he just can't let it go. 

He brings time to Azkaban. 

For the other prisoners, time comes in the form of periodically-recurring nights filled with fear as the hungry cries of the wolf in the cell at the end of the hall tries to break free. For Remus, time is the neat line of twenty-eight scratches on one wall of his cell, separated into five groups of five and one of four. Remus starts counting somewhere in the middle of the line, and each day he notes where he is on his line. 

One morning Remus wakes up and it is the day of mark twenty-eight. He stares at the mark for a long time before he silently turns away from the wall. He has no appetite today and ignores what food is brought to him. The day is spent listlessly pacing the floor, eyes fixed on the cell's single window, set in the wall high above his head. 

Early evening finds Remus curled up on the floor, naked. The rough stone of the floor bites and drags at his bare skin, but Remus doesn't want to risk wearing his robes. As it is, tonight it will be enough of a miracle if any of his clothing escapes being torn to shreds by the wolf. The cuts and bruises he gains from the floor won't last long anyway; werewolves are very fast healers. Pale moonlight streams down and illuminates him as writhes in agonizing pain, and Remus transforms for the first time in Azkaban. In the cells that line the corridor leading to Remus' own prison, the other inmates cringe as his screams of pain rip through the night. 

After some short while, the cries cease, and Remus paces the width of his small cell on four feet instead of two. 

It is the first time in six years that the wolf has found himself alone during the change, not counting the summer hols between fifth and sixth year and those between sixth and seventh. He whines and sniffs the air experimentally, searching for some sign of his pack. But all that the wolf can smell is fear and rot and death. And under it all, under all the filth and disease, the sharp musky scent that he knows to be _prey_. The wolf throws himself at the bars of the cell door, trying to escape, trying to reach the creatures dwelling in the other cells that are giving off that tantalizing smell. 

Though they know that the wolf will not be able to break free of his cell, the other inhabitants of Azkaban are silent with a fear that, for the first time since their coming here, has nothing to do with the guards that roam throughout the prison. This row of high-security cells is reserved for Death Eaters and other followers of the wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort. They are all from old, pureblood wizarding families, and they know what it means to be near a werewolf who can smell human flesh but is denied it. 

Here is Bellatrix Lestrange, _née_ Black. She is newly arrived, still haughty and full of pride. Azkaban's guards have yet to break her, but she is trembling in her cell just the same. In her mind she can hear words from her childhood, words that her mother told her in the dark of the night. _"The werewolf is one of the sturdiest beasts in the world. Unlike Muggles and other animals, werewolves can only be killed a handful of ways, nearly all of which are not only difficult but time-consuming as well."_ Hearing the frustrated howls of the werewolf, Bellatrix curls up in a corner of her cell, her usually drooping eyes wide with fear. Waiting for morning, she repeats to herself all the ways to kill a werewolf that she learned on her mother's lap. "Silver knife to the heart," she whispers to herself. "Silver in the blood or in the food..." 

The wolf scrabbles at the wall of his cell. He jumps up and drags his claws down the stone, hoping to tear down the walls and free himself of this cage he has found himself in. He needs to escape, needs to find his pack, find the dog and the stag and the rat – no. A low growl begins in the back of the wolf's throat, and in her cell, Bellatrix falls silent from the fear that claws at her throat. Her words are of little use to her in any matter, there is no silver here. 

Across from Bellatrix is little Barty Crouch, Jr., come just the day before with Bellatrix and two others. Barty never thought he would find himself in Azkaban, he felt sure that his father would save him. He never suspected that the quiet Gryffindor prefect three years above him was a bloodthirsty beast. None of this seems real, and Barty adds his own keening voice to that of the wolf's as he rocks back and forth in the middle of his cell, his arms wrapped around his knees. Barty doesn't care that he's a man of eighteen, he wants his mother. 

Grey lips curl back with disgust and the wolf's growl lengthens. He remembers that his pack has been betrayed by one of its own, by the traitorous rat. He remembers that the pack is not merely missing, but actually gone, almost utterly destroyed by the rodent's betrayal. A new anger builds in the wolf; the rat must be driven out from the pack. Better yet, the rat must be killed as the stag was killed, killed as the wolf's pack was killed (_and a part of the wolf wonders if it is also killed as the dog was killed, as he cannot remember the dog's fate, try as he might_). Ready to hunt the traitor and mete out revenge for his pack, the wolf lets out a miserable, gut-wrenching howl when he finds himself still trapped behind cold stone walls and harsh iron bars, and the sound causes a shiver to go down the spine of the man down the corridor. 

This is not the first time that Augustus Rookwood has heard the lonely howl of a werewolf. He spent some time on the continent when he was younger, and as he lies awake on the floor of his cell, he recalls a night nearly twenty years previous to this. A night Augustus spent tense and nervous in his bed as he listened to the cries of two _loups-garous_ echo across the French countryside. Though he has not thought of that night for many years, lying here on the hard stone Augustus can almost swear it happened just yesterday, and even now he can nearly hear the howl of another wolf crying out in answer to the one in the cell only a few yards away from him. Augustus wonders how many times he will have to listen to the wolf before either he or Lupin dies. 

Again the wolf drags his claws across the walls, and the razor-sharp claws leave pale marks on the dark stones. But it is no use, the walls are unyielding to the efforts of the wolf. He makes another attempt at knocking down the door, throwing his entire body against it, but not even the weight of a full-grown werewolf is enough to bring down the deep-seated metal bars. Unable to avenge his pack, unable to reach the prey that teases his senses, the wolf is desperate for the taste of blood, so much so that he gnaws on his own legs, his own flesh. On occasion he breaks his frenzy to raise his bloodied muzzle and let rip a howl of despair at the betrayal of the rat, at the death of the stag, at the absence (_death?_) of the dog. 

Moonset comes at long last, and Remus falls to the floor of his cell from exhaustion, a bloody, bruised mess. His arms and legs are nearly chewed to the bone, the muscled flesh around them looks nothing so much like strips of meat that have seen particularly harsh abuse at the hands of an overly vicious butcher. By the time he wakes in the late afternoon, most of these wounds have closed almost completely, and Remus drags himself across the rough floor to the corner where his clothing lies. The robes still retain the neat folds he made in them the previous evening; the wolf was too concerned with the loss of his pack last night to take any interest in the clothes, even though the cloth smells strongly of human, a werewolf's natural prey. 

Clothed once more, Remus crawls with great difficulty to the wall that adjoins the one bearing his line of twenty-eight marks. He struggles to sit, and using the stones of the wall as a support, he draws himself upwards until he is standing far above the pale marks mad incised by the wolf's claws during the night. Remus lifts a chipped piece of rock to the stone wall and vainly tries to steady his hand. Finally, he decides that neatness no longer matters, and he drags the stone down the wall and up again, down and up, down and up, repeating the motion over and over again until there is a distinct if somewhat jagged line on the wall. 

Remus stares at the mark for a moment, then moves to scratch something more to the left of the line only to collapse in a heap on the floor. He's pushed himself too far too soon after the moon, especially when he hasn't had proper medical treatment for his injuries. It takes him a full five days to completely recover from the transformation, the longest time ever. 

– – –

Sirius is slow to recover from losing so much in so short a period. Though he is legally Harry's guardian, during these first few years Minerva McGonagall often feels as if both the child and the man have been placed under her care. Though she felt that she had come to know Sirius Black quite well during the seven years that she was both his teacher and his head of house, she soon finds that she never really knew him, or, even if she had, he has been changed so drastically by events of that cold October night that all of her past knowledge has been rendered completely useless. 

She is grateful to Dumbledore for allowing her to add Sirius, and by extension, Harry, to her contract as dependents. Sirius barely protests as she ushers him into the rooms that she occupies at Hogwarts, rooms that will now be his and Harry's as well. At barely twenty-one, Sirius is too young to be going through this alone, especially when he also has Harry to look after. If anything were to happen to Sirius, the boy would have to go live with his Muggle relatives, and Minerva, true to the curiosity that seems to be in the nature of all cats, has seen them. Harry will never even know that they exist if she has any say in the matter. 

Part of her knows that one of the main reasons Dumbledore allows Sirius to stay at Hogwarts despite his contributing nothing to school is that his continued residence guarantees that Harry will remain in the castle, will remain under all the protections that its old stone walls have to offer. She supposes that, ideally, Harry should be raised away from the adoration of the wizarding world to prevent his growing up with a swelled head, but she can't bring herself to send either boy (because, really, Sirius is nothing more than a boy these days) away. 

In a way, Harry's presence in the castle actually helps combat the formation of hero-worship or idealization. Though the students know who he is – it would be hard for them to not recognize the messy mop of hair that has been the star feature of the _Daily Prophet_ for the past few months even without the distinctive scar – they have a hard time equating the shy little toddler with the august and remote child-hero of the papers. The girls coo over him while the boys play games with him, some rather rough and tumbley, though the girls always stop them before they go too far. Minerva never lacks for baby-sitters. 

By the time that the winter holidays roll around, Sirius and Harry have been at the castle for over a month. Those students that go home for the holidays disabuse family and friends of the mythoi that has grown up around the small Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, telling them instead of the happy but lost child, eager to please and slow to anger. Though adults are quick to discount the words of children, it is not long before she ceases to hear Harry's name spoken with an air of hushed reverence when she visits the shops of Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, and Minerva feels pride at the inadvertent work of her students. 

Between the students and the other teachers, Harry is well on his way to adjusting to life without parents. Really, it is Sirius who worries the Transfigurations Mistress more. He moves through the days as if lost in a daze, rarely attempting to interact with the people around him. Harry is the only one who can bring him out of his shell on a consistent basis, and it rends Minerva's heart to see the two of them together, the tiny slip of a boy looking after the man as much as the man looking after the boy. 

But Sirius still lags behind, avoiding the students and hiding from the other teachers. She knows that something is wrong, something about that Hallowe'en night that she does not understand. This is not the despair of a man who has lost three of his closest friends by the betrayal of the fourth, though it is not until she observes Sirius encounter Severus Snape for the first time since the former's coming to the castle that she truly sees how much Sirius has been changed. 

A month after that first full moon, Sirius is walking, shuffling, really, his eyes on his feet, down the corridor to her classroom one evening, when he walks into Severus, headed the opposite direction and intent on the book he is reading. She tenses as she sees the collision, ready to separate the two men at moment's notice. Severus' own tension does not escape her sharp eyes either, and she watches in dismay as he berates Sirius for being such a clumsy fool. Sirius, his eyes still on his shoes, his entire body drooping, says nothing throughout the entire attack. Finally, unsure of what to make of the strangely quiet man that the nemesis of his school years has become, Severus winds down, a slightly bewildered look on his face. 

Sensing the other man is finished speaking, Sirius mumbles an apology, carefully steps around Severus, and continues on to where Minerva is standing in the doorway of the Transfiguration classroom, stiff with shock. Harry, who has been clinging to the bottom of her robes as he is wont to do, rushes to his godfather's side and embraces a leg. Minerva fancies that there is a look of worry on the boy's face. Which is preposterous, of course, as Harry can't know the significance of Sirius not only admitting to Severus that he is at fault, but apologizing as well. 

The entire occasion serves to drive home something that she has been trying hard not to acknowledge. Though he is far from being insane with grief, Sirius Black is a broken man, and Minerva despairs of ever learning how to mend him properly. 

– – –

Ironically enough, the thing that hurts the most, the thing that plagues his mind day in and day out, is not the death of the Potters, nor that of Peter. He mourns for them, yes, mourns for them even when their memories have begun to fade and he can no longer remember the sound of James' joyful whoop at scoring a goal on the Quidditch pitch, Peter's nervous laughter at one of the others' raunchier jokes, Lily's soft soprano when singing little Harry to sleep. Mourns for them when he is so separate from the rest of the world that he can only vaguely remember why the three were important to him in the first place. But their loss is still not what hurts him the most. 

The thing that hurts the most, the thing that never ceases to aggravate Sirius' mind, is that he never told him. Never told Remus (_traitor, betrayer, murderer_) how he felt. Never told him that he (_don't think it, don't think it, don't let them know, 'cause it's wrong wrong wrong_) loved him. And it hurts, hurts, hurts, because every full moon Padfoot still wanders the forest, trying to find Moony, his Moony. He howls at the moon, letting loose his anger, his sadness, his regret, his grief. Letting flow out all the things that he won't allow himself to feel or think all the other days of the month. Hoping, hoping, hoping that someday Moony will answer his howls. But his anguished cries are never answered. The night is silent aside from the soft whimpering of the large black dog. 

Sometimes a striped cat joins him on his moonlight romps. Its presence is comforting, though it confuses him. He does not understand why it is here – full moons are for the wolf, the stag, the rat, and the dog, never the cat. But it twines around his legs, calming him, and he knows it to be a friend. 

He becomes almost nocturnal sometime during that first year at Hogwarts. It is easier to avoid the students' stares and the teacher's pitying glances during the silent hours between midnight and dawn. His nights are spent wandering the corridors, and a part of him is not in the present as he goes. Instead it is lost in the past, mapping forbidden rooms and secret passages with his friends, sneaking into the Restricted Section of the library to learn how to be an Animagus, laughing, joking, playing with those three others. A part of him is still stuck in seventh year, trailing behind the others as they press on to some new adventure, watching the boy with the dancing golden eyes and the warm brown hair that's always just on the cusp of beginning to grey. Watching from the shadows where his gaze will go unnoticed. 

Most of his days are spent in McGonagall's apartments, hiding under the covers of the bed she has told him is now his own. Sirius knows that she does not like his hiding, knows that she thinks he has been mourning for too long, that he needs to move on. He knows she's right, and would let go if he could. Every day when he wakes up, when he feels like it isn't worth it to live through the day, he remembers her words from the morning after that first full moon, he remembers Harry. He has to live and be strong because Harry, Harry's still alive. Harry's all he has left. 

So he lives and breathes, but he isn't strong, because he can't let go no matter how much he knows he needs to. Can't let go of the boy with the golden eyes and the silver-streaked hair. The boy who became the man that betrayed them all, and Sirius can't help it but he still loves him. Still loves that soft, rich voice and those quick hands; still loves the shy smile and the soft laugh, and he hates himself for it. The emptiness and the longing and the guilt, the guilt of still loving Remus even after all he's done, all of it tears him up inside in ways that he's sure can't ever be healed. Only in Harry's innocent babbling and clumsy hugs, in McGonagall's strong support and gentle words does he find any sort relief. 

Not long after coming to the castle, Sirius quite literally runs into Snape. Snivellus berates and degrades him, calling him a foul, loathsome worm, a creature not worthy to walk on two legs let alone tread upon the sacred stones that make up Hogwarts. Sirius takes all this in with nary a flinch, because he knows that every word out of Snape's mouth is the absolute truth. What kind of monster must he be, after all, to still love Remus after all the evil the man has done? If only Sirius had not been a Black, a member of that loathsome, hated family. Then James and Lily would never have mistrusted him, would never have made Remus the Secret Keeper, would have chosen Sirius instead. Remus might have killed him to try and get the secret, but James and Peter and Lily would still be alive and Harry would still have his parents, because Sirius would never, never betray them. If he'd only had a different name, a different family, Sirius would never have to feel this awful, aching emptiness in his chest. 

So knowing it to be true, Sirius takes all of Snape's abuse, and would even nod his head in agreement if the guilt didn't weigh so heavily on it. Sirius' silent acceptance of everything he says only serves to anger the young teacher more, and Snape starts yelling at Sirius, desperate to provoke some reaction from the broken man. Sirius is called a murderer, a betrayer, a traitor, a dog who turned and bit the hand that fed it. And Sirius knows that Snape still speaks the truth, because if Sirius hadn't been so blind, so stupid, he would have remembered that Voldemort was courting Dark Creatures, tempting them with equal status and the ability to be their true selves, not the domesticated animals wizards forced them to be, toothless beasts that would not and could not hurt a child. He would have remembered that Remus is a _werewolf_, a creature that is dangerous and vicious to human beings and not just Padfoot's playmate Moony. If Sirius hadn't been foolish with a love that would never be returned, he would have realized that Remus was the traitor. Sirius knows that it is his own fault his friends are dead, he just hadn't realize that Snape knew it as well. 

Finally Snape winds down, confused and at a loss of what to do. He's said everything he's ever wanted to say to Sirius Black. All the hatred that has been building up inside of him since their first meeting on Hogwarts Express more than ten years ago has spilled out, and for the first time ever, Severus Snape is left with nothing to say to the man in front of him. 

Sirius distantly realizes that Snape is finished, and he manages to muster a mumbled response. "I'm sorry," he says, "my fault. I'll try not to do it again." Then he shuffles around Snape and continues on to where McGonagall and Harry are waiting for him. Harry detaches himself from her robe, rushing over to hug his leg, and Sirius stares down at the boy with detached amazement, unable to understand how the boy can stand to touch him at all, because Snape's words are still rebounding in his head and Sirius can barely stand to even be _himself_. 

– – –

When McGonagall first takes Black and the Potter spawn under her wing, Severus is not happy about it at all. Unlike nearly everyone else in the castle, he is glad that the werewolf has taken down Pettigrew and led Potter Senior and his goody-two-shoes wife to their deaths. His only regrets are that Black was not killed as well and that it was the fucking Potter spawn and not Severus himself who took down the Dark Lord. How dare that blasted babe take away his one chance to redeem himself? And without even trying! That the child-hero and his guardian have invaded his one sanctuary from a world that hates him only serves to add insult to injury. 

After being informed of Black and his cursed godson's installation in McGonagall's rooms, Severus allows his anger to simmer under the surface, letting it build up in preparation for the confrontation that he knows will come when his path finally crosses with Black's. He terrorizes the students in his potions classes unmercifully, hardly caring that he is building for himself a reputation as a nasty, bitter man, an awful teacher. 

But though he sees the Spawn nearly every day, wandering the castle under the watchful eye of this or that student, he never sees Black. He knows the man is in the castle, has heard the whispered conversations of the students about the strange man they once saw lying in the infirmary, has heard the bone-chilling howls that fill the night every full moon, howls he knows to be Black's. The fact that Black has a canine Animagus form is no secret, since as soon as McGonagall learned of it, she forced the man to register with the Ministry. The registration serves to set off yet another crop of rumors in the school as eager students romanticize the tragic figure that Black cuts, a man willing to do anything for the sake of a friend who repaid the effort with betrayal. 

Severus thinks it fitting that Black has finally learned that not everyone loves him. He even begins to regret that he has not seen the man, as he would dearly love to throw Lupin's betrayal into Black's face. That the perfect Gryffindor four weren't really all that mighty gives him a feeling of uncontrollable glee, and Severus really can't help the nasty smirk that creeps onto his face every time someone mentions the werewolf's misdeeds. 

When Severus finally sees Black, over a month has passed since the Dark Lord's fall. The man actually has the gall to walk straight into him, which delights Severus because it almost excuses the tirade that he lets fly upon finally seeing his schoolday nemesis. All the anger, all the hatred, jealousy, spite, frustration – it all breaks loose in a flood, crashing forward to attack Black again and again and again. Glee fills Severus initially, but the feeling soon fades when Black fails to respond to his words, instead simply standing there with his head down, not even bothering to meet Severus' eyes. Real, bitter anger comes now, and Severus pulls on that which he'd intended to hold in reserve until a later meeting. 

He screams at Black, calling him a murderer, a pathetic creature who couldn't even save his own friends. He calls Black a betrayer and a traitor for living while they all died, even though Severus knows that his anger is not because Black betrayed his friends, but because he betrayed Severus by not dying along with the rest of them. He reminds Black that his friendship was never enough, that no matter what he did, Lupin was still a monster, still a fucking werewolf and he killed them all. 

Severus isn't exactly sure of what all he says, shouts, screams. He doesn't even care that McGonagall, the teacher who he always secretly feared at school, the woman who is now not only his senior and superior but also Black's protector, is only a few yards away and can surely hear every single thing that he says. His words really are a flood, the dam has burst and he is no longer able to stem the flow of them from his mouth. He goes on and on, saying everything he's always wanted to say when he was at school, everything he held back because while he might not have been a _good_ boy, he likes to believe that he had some semblance of manners, that he was somehow better than Potter and Black, so he always tried to never go too far. But now it's all spilling out until, until, until... 

Until there's nothing left to say, because he's said it all. And Black is still just standing there, his head bowed, disputing none of it – almost waiting expectantly, as if he's ready to take still more. Severus can't understand it, can't comprehend this new, silent Black. It is not the boy who tormented him when was younger, nor the teenager who, despite making his life a living hell, he secretly, desperately needed to imitate when he was older. 

Black shuffles his feet, not only mumbling an apology (and Severus wonders whether the apology is for walking into him this one time or for all the awful things Black has done to him in the past) but admitting that he is at fault. It shocks Severus; the boy that he knew in school rarely apologized and _never_ admitted to his mistakes. Black carefully walks around him and continues on down the corridor, and for the first time Severus realizes that Sirius Black has been broken, perhaps irretrievably. 

It bothers Severus that this revelation brings him very little happiness. 

After the confrontation in the corridor, Severus does not see Black again during the daylight hours, partly because he is busy hiding in the dungeons, unwilling to acknowledge the unease he felt at observing Black's broken state, but mostly because, as he later learns, the other man hides in McGonagall's rooms during the day. Severus does not, however, cease to see Black entirely. 

Since leaving the Death Eaters, insomnia takes Severus most nights, and he often spends the hours between dusk and dawn patrolling the corridors of the school. It is during these midnight patrols that Severus sees Black, sees the other man wandering through the castle at night in a daze. Unlike the one time that he walked into Severus, Black always has his head up and his back and shoulders straight during the nighttime hours; he walks with pride and eagerness. Black's eyes dance about, and the occasional smile ghosts across his face. Sometimes he turns his head to the side and his lips move, then stop, then move again, almost as if he is holding a conversation with someone no one else can see, though Severus never hears any sound come from Black's mouth. Severus finds this almost as disturbing as the broken man he's already seen. This madman is eerily close to the Black that Severus remembers, the young, carefree Gryffindor who believed that he and his friends were immortal. 

For a while, the hatred returns, and Severus welcomes it. It is easy to hate Black when he is like this, back in those mannerisms that Severus grew up hating, and Severus finds it almost comforting to see Black's return to his former behaviour. He enjoys Black's apparent madness, revels in the fact that the man is so pathetic, so idiotic, that he cannot manage the world around him and must seek solace in his glory days. 

Severus is surprised when, nearly a half a year after the coming of Black and the boy to Hogwarts, McGonagall takes him aside and grills him on what exactly Black does at night. It has not occurred to Severus that he might know more about the man than Black's self-assigned defender. What's more, that McGonagall has chosen to come to him for information on Black's nightly wanderings is even more bewildering. It is a common knowledge among the staff of the school that Dumbledore keeps tabs on nearly everything that occurs within the walls of the castle. The mastering of the Animagus transformation by Black and his friends while at school was the exception rather than the rule. 

Severus is at a loss as to what he should tell McGonagall. How can he explain to this woman, this woman who as a child he was in awe of, and whom he now, as an adult, admires, that Black, her pride and joy, the man she believes she is successfully, if somewhat slowly, nursing back to health – how is he to tell her that he is insane? That he wanders the castle conversing with the ghosts of his memories in complete silence? 

In the end, much to his surprise, Severus does not tell her everything, only that he sees Black wandering the corridors much as he himself does many evenings. To his disgust, he even lets her know that she needn't worry for Black's safety, as he steers Black straight before the man can place himself in any serious danger. This brings tears to McGonagall's eyes, and suddenly she is throwing her arms around Severus, embracing him in the same way that he has seen her hug the Potter spawn. Severus is shocked, he has never been hugged before – neither of his parents were particularly affectionate when he was a child. 

When McGonagall calls on him at his dungeon quarters a few months later during the summer holidays, Severus supposes that she comes because of his stupid slip of tongue concerning Black. She smiles pleasantly, which really should be enough to set off warning bells in Severus' head, but as he is young and still has much to learn about the world in general and Minerva McGonagall in particular, he invites her in without much trepidation. Out of all of the teachers at the school, McGonagall and Dumbledore are the only two who have not given him looks of suspicion over the past two years he has taught there, it would not be good for him to alienate one of his two sole defenders. As she enters, Severus eyes the brat, who clings to the skirt of McGonagall's robes and watches him silently, a small satchel clutched in one hand. 

"I was hoping to do some shopping today, Severus," McGonagall says brightly as she seats herself gracefully on his sofa, pulling Potter's spawn into her lap. "But I really don't think that Harry is old enough to be wandering about Diagon Alley – he might get trampled or turned into something nasty." 

Now the trepidation begins to set in, and Severus starts to sincerely regret that he allowed himself to be duped by McGonagall's innocent face as he can see all too well what McGonagall is leading up to. "No," he says, but his throat is dry and the word comes out as a rasped whisper instead of the sneering statement he intends. 

She ignores him, and breezes onward. "Normally I would ask Pomona to watch him, what with all the students gone for the summer, but she has her hands full with the Venomous Tentacula right now. You wouldn't have to do much, Harry's really such a well behaved little boy and can keep himself entertained easily; he just needs someone to make sure that he's fed at meal times and put down on time for his afternoon nap." 

She wants him to act as a child-minder. For Potter's obnoxious spawn. Severus cannot believe she that she seems to seriously think he will agree to this. "Can't Black-" he begins, but she quickly cuts him off with the wave of her hand. 

"Oh, it is well enough to have Sirius mind Harry when there is a third person to keep track of them both, but Sirius really hasn't progressed to a point where he can be left alone with the boy." McGonagall bites her lip nervously, and for a moment she looks strangely young to Severus, though he knows her to be more than twice his age. "He sometimes just stops whatever he's doing doing and... sits. Staring off into space," she adds with a note of despair. 

Later, and he is not exactly sure how it happens, Severus finds himself alone with the brat, McGonagall having gone off to do her shopping. He glares at the boy sitting on the sofa, and the brat stares up at him, his green eyes large under a fringe just as impossibly messy as his father's once was. Severus sneers at the hair, wondering how it is that the prim McGonagall allows it to remain such a fright. The boy says nothing as he opens his satchel and removes a black, floppy plush dog from inside. Severus moves into the other room, intent on completing the project he was in the midst of before McGonagall came and foisted the brat off on him. 

The Potter spawn is remarkably well behaved for a child not yet two. He plays quietly with his dog all morning, stopping only when it is time to eat lunch. Despite what McGonagall has told him, Severus finds that he does not even have to remember to put the boy down for a nap, as he falls asleep completely alone. While he is loathe to admit it, Severus finds at the end of the day that the boy is not anywhere near as spoiled as he expected. McGonagall gives him a box of chocolates when she comes to pick up the boy at the end of the day, thanking him profusely for his troubles. 

Time passes. September comes and with it the children, to Severus' absolute disgust. On occasion, he finds himself wondering why they cannot be as well behaved as the Spawn, though he would never admit such thoughts to anyone. Black continues to wander the castle at night, and to his shock, Severus realizes that, somewhere between screaming his lungs out at Black and witnessing Black's mad midnight wanderings, he has ceased to hate the man. Which is not to say Severus likes Black now, just that he no longer feels an all-consuming hatred towards him. 

Then one evening, it suddenly occurs to Severus that Black is nothing but a poor mimicry of what he once was. Disgusted, Severus feels cheated of the revenge he believed he had achieved. Having decided that Black's madness is no longer amusing, he resolves to take matters into his own hands and put an end to this pathetic charade once and for all. He tries not to think of the fact that in doing so, he will be helping a man who once tried to kill him. Just because Severus dislikes the way Black has allowed his life to be consumed by denial doesn't mean he is against the feeling entirely. 


	3. 2:

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world both belong to J.K. Rowling, several publishing companies (Bloomsbury Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic Books), and Warner Brothers, Inc. Trewissick and its inhabitants likewise do not belong to me, they are the property of Susan Cooper. And as I'm not any of them, I own none of this except the story itself, off of which I'm making absolutely no money, so please, don't sue me. 

Really, the opening line hit me and just wouldn't go away. Forty-three pages later...  
Many thanks to Moony's Girl and Rapunzel for the beta jobs. Hugs for you both! 

**Cages**

2: 

Sometimes there are visitors for the prisoners. They do not come all that often, mostly because visiting someone in the maximum security ward of Azkaban is a sure way to guarantee that the Ministry will develop a keen interest in your affairs. Unless, of course, you provide the correct people with proper incentive to ignore you. 

Several months after her coming to Azkaban, Bellatrix Lestrange is paid a visit by her aunt. Curled up in the corner of his cell, Remus watches as the dark figure of Mrs Black talks with her niece. The vehemence that laces the words of the older woman send a chilling knife of fear right through his gut, and Remus is grateful that Sirius escaped his family home when he did. As soon as this thought crosses Remus' mind he shivers away from it. It is not good to think of Sirius. Sirius is a memory of happier times, and happy things always draw the interest of the dementors. 

As it is, the dementors take particular pleasure in tormenting Remus. They recognize his inherently Dark nature and realize that, as a werewolf and a predator, Remus is above the parasitic status that they hold in the hierarchy of Dark creatures. That they have been given power over him thrills them, and they often journey to the far end of the corridor where Remus is kept, eager to feed off his happiness. Remus finds it amazing that he still has any pleasant memories left to him. A shadow falls across Remus' cell, and he glances up to see Mrs Black observing him from the door of his cell, her face tight with disgust. 

Though he has only seen the woman twice before, both times on Platform 9 3/4 as he rushed to board the train to Hogwarts, Remus is surprised by how much the woman has changed since he last saw her. There is a madness in her eyes, and Remus thinks that the only reason she is able to come to Azkaban and bear the presence of the dementors is that she is already more than half-mad. He does not like her, does in fact hate her for the suffering she has caused Sirius, but since he is still Remus Lupin, since Azkaban can't take away his basic nature, he still pities her. 

"Can I help you, madam?" He asks her because his craving for human contact surpasses the hatred he feels for her. 

"A beast," she hisses viciously, her eyes dark and narrow. "He left his own flesh and blood for a handful of foolish Gryffindors and some... animal. You dared to steal my child like you can actually feel or think the same as humans do, like you're equal to us." 

Remus shrinks away from her. Even though he knows that she's wrong, knows that the old bat has never loved Sirius as much as Remus does, that Sirius left his family of his own free will, her words still sting and hurt. He hates himself for still yearning the human contact that she gives him even as she degrades and berates him. A part of him reflects that she is just as effective as the dementors, if not more so. 

Mrs Black's hatred suddenly changes to delight. Remus curls in on himself even more tightly, somehow the insane happiness dancing in her dark eyes and the wicked little smile on her face is worse than the filth she was spewing before. "Doesn't matter though," she says happily. "Wouldn't want him now anyway, he's broken beyond any repair. _You_ broke him, _wolf_, with your silly little tricks." With a disturbed laugh she turns away from his cell, leaving Remus behind to contemplate her words in wretched solitude. 

Some time after Mrs Black's visit, Crouch, the head of Ministry Department of Magical Law Enforcement and a man Remus remembers all too well, comes with his wife to visit their son, who is close to death after only two or so years in Azkaban. Remus can easily see young Barty's cell from his own, and has often thought it odd that a man should be in a so dark a place as Azkaban at so young an age. He doesn't feel any sympathy for Barty, however – the wolf inside Remus can smell the stink of Dark magics that surrounds the boy and knows that the boy is not wrongfully imprisoned. 

While his wife visits with the son he has disowned, Crouch stalks down the hall to glare at Remus through the bars of his cell. Remus does not fear this man the way he did Sirius' mother. Though Crouch was the one to place him in Azkaban, the man has no more power over him. As Crouch himself informed Remus at his sentencing, Remus was saved from immediate execution by a very old law that excepts sentient magical beings from the death sentence usually attached to the crime of having harmed a human if said harm was performed in a "wizard- or Muggle-like fashion." While Remus is sure that the law has been repealed since his admittance to Azkaban, it continues to protect him as it was still on the books when he was sentenced. Leaning against the back wall of his cell, Remus returns Crouch's glare with a bored expression. 

"You're still here?" says Crouch, and he practically spits the words out, the disgust is so thick in his voice. Remus knows that the man would have preferred to have killed him when Remus originally came under his scrutiny. It amuses Remus that Crouch is so obsessed with the rules that he allowed a near-defunct law to prevent him from carrying out the death of a werewolf that no one would miss. 

"I'm still here," Remus replies in agreement. This conversation, he thinks, can't possibly become as bad the one he had with Mrs Black. 

"You won't last much longer, Lupin," Crouch says as he wrinkles his nose at Remus' grungy appearance. "If the dementors don't kill you, the monster inside you will." 

It occurs to Remus that he may have already begun to go mad, as Crouch's words causes him amusement, not terror as they should. "If I might remind you of your Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons, Mr Crouch," Remus says brightly, his voice cheerily false, "it is very, very, very hard to kill a werewolf. So, unless you happen to feel like giving me the trial I should have received two years ago, I'm likely to be here for quite a long time to come." 

This earns Remus another poisonous glare from Crouch. "How is it the dementors don't affect you, Lupin?" he asks. 

"I wouldn't say they have had no affect on me at all," Remus says, cocking his head to the side. "But I suppose that their impact may be somewhat lessened by the fact that I can hate someone quite strongly. Hate isn't exactly a happy feeling, it's not an entirely upsetting one either." Remus knows that this isn't the real reason he stays sane in this madhouse, but he gave up long ago trying to convince anyone of his innocence. No one ever believes that a Dark creature can be innocent anyway. 

"Yes, well, Harry Potter is well out of your grasp. You'd do well to turn your hate elsewhere," Crouch snarls as he turns to collect his wife and leave. 

Eyes bright with some unnamed emotion, Remus can't resist adding a single parting shot that he know will upset the man further. "Who said anything about Harry? I save my hate for only one person, and that's the man who put me in this hellhole." 

Remus is so amused by Crouch's hurry to leave that he does not immediately notice that the scent of Barty Crouch, Jr. has lost the stench of Darkness. When he does at last notice the change, Remus remembers a small, dark-haired baby lying alone in a still house and wonders at the blind, saving love so many mothers have for their children. 

A dementor mistakes Remus' wonder for happiness, and rushes over to steal it from him. Its eagerness attracts the attentions of other dementors, and soon there is a large group congregated around Remus' cell. The experience leaves Remus drained and his eyes dark with despair. 

- - -

Trailing his hand on the wall, Sirius wanders down an empty corridor. He is following James and Peter as they run on ahead, eager to see what is in the mysterious unmarked room that appeared on their map earlier in the evening. Every now and then he glances sideways and grins at Remus. He is about to say something to his friend, when he walks into something solid and warm. 

At first he cannot see what it is, cannot guess at its nature. It isn't on the map, what can it be? Then the map dissolves from his hands, and up ahead James and Peter vanish into the darkness. He desperately grabs at Remus, but the other boy is fading away like the Cheshire Cat, until only his brilliant amber eyes remain; then even they are gone. As the last wisps of the past leave him behind, Sirius returns to reality and he remembers _everything_. A sob breaks loose from his throat, and he buries his face in his hands. 

"Oh, stop bawling like a baby, Black," sneers whatever he has walked into. Confused, Sirius looks up at the man in front of him. 

"Sn... Snivellus?" he asks, and immediately regrets the use of the old taunt. At the moment, Sirius sounds rather snivelly himself. 

"My, _you've_ obviously grown out of petty, childish bullying," says Snape, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Sirius knows that he should be angry at Snape, furious even. But he can't seem to muster the hate that usually accompanies any run-in he has with Snape. "Sorry I walked into you again," he says instead, and moves to go around Snape. 

Snape steps to the side and blocks Sirius' path. "Apology accepted," he says tritely, "though I half expected you to walk into me when I chose to stand in your way." Sirius stares at him, unable to comprehend what Snape is saying. 

"Don't give me that look, Black," says Snape, his entire demeanor bordering on frustration. "I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for myself. I don't want to have Potter's damned brat foisted off on me again the next time that manipulative Gryffindor biddy decides to go on a shopping expedition." 

"I... Harry." Sirius shakes his head and tries to think of the words he wants. It is hard – the pain, the loss keep intruding on his mind, preventing him from forming any rational thoughts. "Harry doesn't need someone like me," he says quietly. "McGonagall takes good care of him." 

"Merlin preserve me from idiotic Gryffindors," sighs Snape. He rubs his temples as if to stem a rising headache. "Look, you apathetic imbecile, who knows _why_, but Potter chose you to act as the guardian of his spawn, not McGonagall. She's already the Deputy Headmistress of this school and the Transfigurations Mistress. She can't be keeping track of the boy simply because you would rather wallow in self-pity than face up to the fact that, yes, shit happens, but life goes on." 

Sirius stares at Snape, dumbfounded by what Snape has said. "But I... They're dead. It's my fault; I messed up and now they're all _dead_," he tries to explain. 

"Dammit, Black! Am I going to have to spell this out for you!" Snape snaps. "You had absolutely nothing to do with the deaths of your silly little Gryffindor friends – that was all Lupin and the Dark Lord. So stop making yourself out to be the tragic figure here; you're not the only one who lost something in the war. You have to learn to let it go like the rest of us." He storms past Sirius, toward the staircase that leads down to the dungeons. 

Watching Snape as he passes, Sirius feels his mind fumble about, desperately trying to process what he had just been told. "Wait! Snape," says Sirius before the other man can disappear out of sight, "I'm sorry. I... well. You. How did you do it? Let it go?" 

At the top of the steps, Snape pauses, his back still turned towards Sirius. "I never really did," he admits softly. "I just try to make up for the damage I've caused. It should be easier for you," he adds, "you didn't do anything." With this he vanishes down the staircase, a swoop of black robes, and then – nothing. 

Sirius stares after Snape, after the man whom he spent almost every waking moment of seven years tormenting. He can't understand why Snape might be trying to help him. Despite what Snape has told Sirius, that he doesn't want to be stuck minding Harry again – and Sirius wonders about that, wonders why was Snape ever even looking after Harry in the first place – Sirius has a hard time believing it to be the truth. 

Standing there in the empty corridor, it occurs to Sirius that he can't remember how long it has been since Voldemort died and the world went to hell. How long ago he howled on that first, awful full moon alone. After Sirius has managed to tuck away the broken, horrible memories that plague him, clearing it all away so that he can actually think again, he realizes that, no matter what Snape's intentions might have been, his words makes sense. Sirius needs to let go of the past, it won't do for him to spend the rest of his life living in memories. If nothing else, he has to show himself to be just as strong as Snape, strong enough to accept the bad but not allow himself to be controlled by it. 

Reaching out, Sirius leans against the wall, hoping that it will provide some sort of grounding point. The rough stone of the wall is comforting, a reminder of happier times, and for a moment Sirius is sorely tempted to give this up and fall back into the dream state he has allowed himself to live in for who knows how long now. Only a moment, though, and then he takes a firm grip on his mind and gently tells it _no_. 

First Sirius lets go of Lily, which is easy because he was never all that close to her anyway. Sure, she was the wife of his best friend, but she was never really all that fond of Sirius anyway, thinking him to be a bad influence on James. Sirius knows that it was only with a great amount of trepidation that Lily finally caved to Sirius being made Harry's godfather. Sirius is glad that she eventually did in the end, since he doesn't know how he would have managed to keep on living after that awful Hallowe'en if it he didn't have Harry. He lets go of all that is left of Lily in his mind. His memories of her are still there, but she no longer has a constant grip on him. As he allows her to move from his short term memory to the security of his long term, Sirius feels as if a weight has been lifted from him. 

Next is Peter. Little Peter, who always tagged after Sirius and James, eager to please and to learn. Now that Peter is gone, Sirius regrets that he didn't treat his friend better when he could. Part of the reason that the memory of Peter has been such a burden to Sirius is that he can't help but remember all the times he teased and tormented Peter. Never as badly as he did Snape, but still more than he really should have. Sirius lets Peter go, and sighs happily by the relief this brings him. Though he knows that he treated Peter inappropriately in the past, Sirius now realizes that you can't change the past, no matter how much you want to. If nothing else, he knows to be more careful of how he treats his friends in the future. 

Letting James go is one of the hardest for Sirius. James was the brother that Sirius wishes he'd had in Regulus, the brother that Sirius remembers having when he was younger, before he'd started drifting away from his family, the brother that he had toward the end, when Regulus had begun to drift away from them as well. When Sirius lets James go, he finds that he must let Regulus go at the same time, the two are so intertwined in Sirius' mind. Even when Regulus was a Death Eater and at the height of his acceptance of Voldemort's fanaticism, Sirius never stopped thinking of him as his little brother. He'd had James, who was just as close if not closer than Regulus, but it wasn't the same, not really. No one can ever replace a younger sibling. It hurts him, but Sirius lets both of them go. 

Now he's come to the last and the hardest, the one that makes everything so much worse. Where James and Peter and Lily died while fighting for what was good and right, and Regulus while trying to escape from the hole he'd dug himself into, Remus is still alive. Remus never repented. That Remus had fought and plotted against them up to the very end makes the ache in Sirius' chest hurt so much more. Even now, Sirius knows that he won't be able to give up the love he feels for the man who destroyed his life. So he decides to not even try. 

Sirius splits his memories of Remus in two. He files away the quiet friend he remembers from his school years, the boy with the age-old golden eyes. To this Sirius adds all the good memories he has of Remus, all his love. Padfoot's howls on those nights that the full moon shines down are for that Remus. Sirius doubts that he will ever stop mourning for the loss of the Remus of his childhood. He does not even allow himself to wonder whether the boy of his memories was ever actually what he appeared to be. In the shadows of that empty hallway, Sirius does his best to let go of the guilt he has felt for still loving Remus. 

What he does not allow himself to let go of, what he clings to with both tooth and nail, is the hatred he feels for Remus Lupin. If Sirius ever gets the chance, he will be more than happy to kill the werewolf. Inside him, Padfoot aches to rip out the throat of the man who destroyed his pack. 

A grim look on his face, Sirius walks back to McGonagall's apartments. His step is steady and his stride is sure. He is not the man he once was, the one which came before that fated All Soul's eve. Neither is he the broken shell of a man who, as a dog, howled at the moon more than a year ago. Sirius Black has mended himself; though there is some question as to whether he will ever again be completely whole. 

- - -

One spring morning, Minerva walks into her sitting room to find a rather astonishing tableau. Harry is already up and dressed, black hair sticking out in every direction, still damp from his earlier bath. He is curled up on the sofa, eagerly looking at the pictures in the book that sits in Sirius' lap. Sirius himself has an arm around his godson and is quietly telling the boy a story that Minerva is sure has almost no relation to words in the book. For several minutes she can do nothing more than stand in the doorway, clutching at her dressing gown. 

The story is finished (and the ending is most certainly not the one that Minerva recalls that book having), and Sirius sends Harry off to return the book back to his room. Sirius notices Minerva for the first time as he stands and stretches, and for a moment he goes pale. Then he smiles. 

"I've been thinking," he says. "Harry hasn't left the castle since we first came here, has he? I should take him on a trip, go someplace where we can spend some time together before I go back to my auror training, maybe the continent...? It would get us out of you hair also – you can't have had much rest during your holidays either, what with having to look after both him and me."

Minerva stares at him, unsure of how to reply. Just yesterday Sirius was nearly a vegetable, going through all the motions of living without ever really going anywhere. Now the dull air of apathy that has hovered about him for the past two years has vanished and a spark of life burns brightly in his eyes. Sirius has returned to the world and is ready to resume moving forward on the long march of life. While she is happy for him, she can't help but be sad that her boys are leaving her behind. "I think that would be a lovely idea, Sirius," she says truthfully, trying hard not to let her voice crack as she says it. "Harry would love it, though he's likely to love spending time with you no matter where you are." 

At that moment Harry comes running back into the room, socks on his feet and shoes clutched in his hands. "Aunt Min, Aunt Min! Sirius told me about how the hen made bread!" He barrels into her legs, then drops his shoes and grabs the end of her dressing gown. "Can you make bread, Aunt Min?" 

Minerva laughs and swoops Harry up in her arms, twirling him around before she sets him down on the sofa so that she can put his shoes on. "No, I am sorry to say that I cannot bake, Harry." Sirius is watching her with the boy, a peculiar expression on his face. 

"'Aunt Min'?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. 

His response is not surprising; he probably hasn't noticed what Harry calls her before this, so Minerva huffs at him as she finishes putting on one of Harry's shoes and turns to the other one. "Well I couldn't very well make him call me Professor McGonagall now, could I? He's not yet three!" Finishing with Harry's shoes, she gives him a pat and tells him to play in his room until it is time for breakfast. Once the boy has left the room, Minerva turns to give Sirius her full attention. "You were not exactly in any shape to keep track of him at the time in any case, Sirius," she says quite pointedly. 

Sirius winces and nods. "I... I'm sorry about that. I just sort of... dumped the two of us on you, didn't I? It was just... after James and Lily and Peter... and then Remus–" he chokes up on the name of the man who Minerva knows to be responsible for not only Peter Pettigrew's death, but the deaths of Harry's parents as well. When Albus first told her of Lupin's role as the Potters' Secret Keeper and the obvious implication (especially in light of his cold-blooded killing of not only little Pettigrew but all those poor Muggles as well) that he must have betrayed them to You-Know-Who, Minerva found it very hard to believe. She remembers the quiet child that Lupin was when at Hogwarts, a troublemaker but never anywhere near as bad as James Potter and Sirius himself. 

Sighing, Minerva drags herself out of her thoughts and back to the present. "I understand," she says kindly, smiling slightly. "It was no trouble at all for me to look after the both of you." 

"Are you sure? Because I–" 

"Sirius!" Minerva says sharply, and Sirius falls silent, his eyes wide. "If either you or Harry had been any trouble for me at all, I would have simply made Albus see to you. Even at your worst you've pretty much looked after yourself. As for Harry, well. The boy's simply a joy to have around, he's such a bright little thing." She pauses as a thought occurs to her, one that's been niggling her since first finding Sirius reading to Harry this morning. "Why are you worrying about all this only now anyway?" 

Sirius bites his lower lip and looks away nervously. "I... That is... last night Snape stopped me when I was out wandering and he said... Well, what he really said was that he didn't want to get stuck minding Harry again, but the implication was that I should start taking responsibility for Harry since he's my godson after all. Then he told me I had to learn to let go of the past, move on with my life." He rubs the back of his neck, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You know, I never realized that Snape could be so damned _deep_." 

Ah, that explains it, Minerva thinks with a small smile. It seems her junior coworker deserves something beyond the usual fruit basket come Christmas time this year. "Severus has had traumas of his own with You-Know-Who," she says, watching Sirius carefully in order to gauge his reaction to her words. "It has been quite the uphill battle for him, as he has had to deal with the contempt of the rest of the world while managing his own feelings of self-hate at the same time." 

Minerva sees a shadow fall across Sirius' face, and wonders whether she has driven the spike too deep into his still-fragile sanity. It is a nasty thing to do, forcing Sirius to see the pettiness of his own troubles when they are compared to those of Severus, but she feels that it is something that must be done. She does not want to have to deal with them brawling in the corridors if she can help it. 

"He said," Sirius says hesitantly, obviously a bit unsure whether he should be repeating this, "that it should be easier for me, the letting go, I mean, because I didn't do anything." Sirius appears to be about to say more, but Harry pokes his head into the sitting room at that moment. 

"Hungry!" he says in the demanding manner that only two-year-olds can manage, and Minerva realizes that not only is it nearly time to eat, but also that she has classes today and she's still in her dressing gown. 

"Just a moment, love," she says to Harry over her shoulder. "Let me get dressed and then well go right down to the Hall. Feel free to join us at breakfast, Sirius. I'm sure it won't be too much trouble for the house elves to find an extra seat for you at the table." 

Sirius stares at her, and she swears she can see the exact moment when he finally resolves something that's been swirling around in his eyes ever since she entered the room. "Haven't had a good Hogwarts' breakfast in a while," he says amiably as he allows her to help him up off the sofa. "And who knows, maybe Dumbledore'll have some suggestions." 

It occurs to Minerva that somewhere in the course of things she's managed to lose track of what they're talking about. "Suggestions?" she says dumbly, and he gives her a dazzling smile. 

"Suggestions as to where the three of us can go this summer," he answers. "Seems to me you could use a trip just as much as Harry and I could." 

"Trip?" asks Harry. He's wandered out of his room and is standing in the doorway, staring at the both of them. "Where're we going?" 

Sirius laughs and reaches over to ruffle the boy's hair. "Well now," he says happily, "I think that depends on what Professor McGonagall decides, doesn't it?" 

Harry frowns up at his guardian and says, quite pointedly, "Aunt Min." 

"What Min decides," Sirius says solemnly before turning to look straight at Minerva. "Minerva," he then adds, testing the name with his mouth, almost as if he isn't ready yet for the familiarity that is implied by the nickname that Harry employs. 

Slipping into her room to get dressed, Minerva can't help but reflect that they make a rather mismatched group. Still, she can't keep the little smile off her face as she exchanges her dressing gown for a robe from her wardrobe. As odd as they are, she has seen stranger families during her many years of teaching. Wizards have never been ones for normalcy, after all. 

- - -

Lying back in the grass, Sirius props himself up on his elbows to watch Harry toddle after the older children, natives to the village. As it turned out, Dumbledore had indeed had suggestions, or, rather, thinly-veiled commands, as to where the three of them could spend the summer months. The continent was apparently quite out of the question, as were any number of popular wizarding holiday spots suggested by McGona- Minerva, Sirius reminds himself, he is to call her Minerva now. None of those places would be safe environments to take Harry, not with numerous escaped Death Eaters still at large, to say nothing of other supporters of the fallen Voldemort. In the end, both Sirius and Minerva acceded to Dumbledore's 'suggested' holiday spot. 

Which is why Sirius now finds himself lying in the park of a small Muggle village somewhere in Logres, or Cornwall, as the Muggles call it, with nothing much of anything to do except watch Harry run about in the fading sunlight of the early summer evening. Minerva's not far off, sitting in the shade of the trees, skirt tucked around her legs as she scribbles away in a Muggle journal. Sirius smiles to himself. Both he and Minerva initially had some problems adapting to life among Muggles, but they've been here for a month now and he thinks they're managing it quite well now. Minerva has, in fact, developed something of a fixation with ball-point pens. Not having to worry about the tip of her quill breaking or running out of ink is a novelty Minerva just can't quite get over. 

It's strange, spending time with Minerva away from the school. Even stranger learning to think of her outside of her former role as his teacher and Head of House. While Harry quite obviously views the woman as something akin to a mother (despite his calling her "Aunt Min"), Sirius is not quite sure what to make of how she treats Harry and himself. He appreciates that she made the effort to look after the two of them at a time when he was incapable of doing so, but he can't figure out why she made the effort. After all, she never particularly approved of either him or James while they were still at the school – it was always Remus who was her special pet. Sirius' mind quickly skids away from thoughts of the werewolf. 

Sirius knows that the old biddies of the village are equally curious about the three strangers and their large dog as both he and Minerva are of the Muggles. It's a small village, and the three of them have made something of an impression on it by staying in the Grey House, the former home of an old sea captain, a friend of Dumbledore's who died a few years back. When they'd finally agreed to stay in Trewissick, Dumbledore had contacted the current owner, a man only a few years younger than Sirius himself, to see about having them stay in the house during their time in the village. Most likely the house bears special wards, or something of that sort; Sirius has not yet bothered to check. 

The locals are apparently a bit skeptical about anyone who stays at the Grey House. While waiting outside the grocer's for Minerva and Harry, Padfoot has overheard whispers that the current owner is a strange sort, nothing like the old Captain. Min chastises Sirius for using his Animagus form to spy on the Muggles, but he has the sneaking suspicion that she's really just as curious about their landlord as he is. The owner, a Mr Drew who Sirius has spoken to on the telephone but never formally met seems normal enough – but Sirius does find it a bit strange that he inherited the house after the captain was lost at sea, seeing as the two of them were both unrelated and also several decades apart in age. For now he keeps his reservations to himself, figuring he'll investigate if the man ever turns up. 

It's also apparent that the biddies seem to think there's some sort of a scandal surrounding Sirius, if the gossip Padfoot hears is anything to go by. Sirius supposes that they find it strange that such a young man should not only have a child in his care but also travel in the company of a woman of Minerva's age (_and really, how old is Minerva anyway? At least as old as his mother, though probably older_). When Padfoot hears some of the more fantastical theories that the biddies come up with, he can't help but let out a low growl, which probably explains the other rumor making the rounds – specifically the one diagnosing him as a mad dog (which is just as silly as those other rumors – Padfoot hasn't ever even had fleas, let alone rabies). Will, the usual caretaker of the Grey House, instructs Sirius to ignore the gossip, telling him about his friends, the mysterious Mr Drew and his siblings. It seems the biddies have quite a lot to say about a young woman of Mr Drew's sister's age staying alone with two young men, even if they are her brothers and the three of them have been coming to village off and on since they all were small. 

A streak of red joins the romping boys as Sirius watches, and after a moment he recognizes Rufus, the old captain's dog who has chosen to stay with Grey House, adopting the new owner. Minerva swears that the dog is part crup, and it wouldn't surprise Sirius if he discovered she was right – Rufus has the uncanny ability of appearing to really _hear_ anything that Sirius tells him, and Padfoot finds that he can hold some rather intelligent conversations with the dog. Sirius stretches and pushes himself to his feet. Minerva gives him an inquiring look, and he simply indicates with chin to where Rufus has separated Harry away from the other boys and is even now gently herding him over. Minerva smiles and closes her journal, tucking away her precious pen. Strange as it might seem to other people in this equally strange (though the inhabitants would never admit it) little town, they've both adapted easily to being called to dinner by the shaggy red dog. 

As he swings Harry up onto his shoulders and follows Rufus back to the Grey House, Sirius can almost forget the uneasy memories that haunt his dreams at night, like echoes of screams that just won't go away. 

Almost. 


End file.
